


Down to Earth

by vanillafluffy



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Epilogue, Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7171304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the Ares III crew has returned, a close relationship still exists between the Becks and the guy who played matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down to Earth

How on Earth has it been three years? Chris Beck wonders, smiling a little at the pun, because it's literally been three years since they've been back on Earth. He still has dreams about being on the mission; he knows Beth does, too, but they don't often discuss it because they're busy enough with real life. 

They've had three fairly eventful years--to begin with, he and Beth had gotten married while NASA was still doing follow-up tests after their return. The reason they'd given publicly was because they wanted their crewmates with them for the happy event. NASA endorsed it it, saying it was a good idea to give the public extra warm fuzzier, like saving Mark wasn't heroic enough. 

Chris and Beth are both a little old-fashioned. They'd already had their trial run at living together, under conditions that would test anyone; it was time to make it official. There was also the fact that their daughter was born seven months after they landed. NASA has never publicly acknowledged that two of their astronauts conceived a baby in space--and thank the deity of your choice for that, or his career would be fucked. As it is, he's working with astronaut candidates and basking in their administration. The Becks are are very happy, all three of them. 

Stella is shrieking happily, running through the yard, the dog romping beside her. She's a rambunctious 28 months old, and as far as Chris is concerned, co-parenting her is the best thing he's ever done, Mars be damned. 

Behind him, the screen door opens and closes, and Mark sits down next to him on the porch steps. He lives with them when he's in town, which is quite a bit. He's in demand for speaking engagements, but he likes having people to come home to--he's spent enough time alone--and they all know each other well enough to be comfortable with it. 

The pair frolicking around the lawn--Chris's kid and Mark's dog--are bestest buddies. "Although," Beth has said wryly, "we know who she misses most when they're gone." Hint, it isn't her Uncle Mark. 

The white bull terrier goes everywhere with Mark. If he and Beth still have dreams about Ares III, they're nothing compared to Mark's lingering terrors. Having the dog there to look after, to wake him when he's having a nightmare, and to interact with is good for him. 

Stella trips and sprawls in the grass, but she's laughing and getting doggy kisses, so Chris watches calmly from the porch. "She's okay," he says to Mark. "There's nothing out there to hurt her."

"Whatever you say, Doc," Mark replies. "Sure you don't want to take soil samples and put her through decontamination?"

Chris rolls his eyes. "Come on, you know I'm not a germophobe. Getting dirty is part of a normal, healthy childhood."

"I can see it now," Mark grins. "'Dr. Beck's Book of Baby and Childcare: The definitive guide on how to raise an out-of-this-world kid.'"

"First, fuck in space." Chris says, keeping his voice down, although Stella is across the yard and taking no notice of the adults sitting on the porch. They both chuckle. 

There's a moment of companionable silence, then Beth says from the screen door, "Can I interest anyone in lunch? We've got some lovely tomatoes."

Mark has a modest garden in the side yard, tended by Beth while he's away. Stella likes to help/play in the dirt, and Mark swears she's going to be an amazing botanist in another 20 years. "Hey, she's learning from the best," he likes to say, pretending to buff his nails. 

"Guess what, honey--Mark thinks I should write a book," Chris tells his wife, who laughs and looks at Mark. 

"I'll believe that when I read it. He doesn't have the patience for it."

"Yeah, she's the writer in the family," Chris agrees. 

He hadn't known Beth journaled throughout the mission; as soon as they returned to Earth, she'd edited the entries into a memoir that went to the top of all the bestseller lists and stayed there for months. That was followed up with a children's book about becoming an astronaut (several awards for that). She gets stacks of letters from girls and young women who say she has inspired them to have careers in science. 

"Stella!" Beth calls. "Time for lunch. Come wash your hands."

The little girl trots to the back door and joins her mother. 

The terrier is sniffing around the forsythia bushes. Chris knows what's coming next, and grins. It sounds like a cliché, but it's the perfect name for Mark Watney's dog. 

Mark whistles and calls, "Here, Rover!"

...


End file.
